when you run your fingers
along the lengths of mine
like that,
you always
almost
have me a fool for you
but no.
because it's already happened
that you looked at me
with so much attentiveness
in your eyes,
so much intent
in your gestures
actions,
i believed you were listening
but you weren't.
you were simply just looking
looking at
"something too good for me," you said
i have never wanted
you to be one of the likes
i despise most in this world
the selfish.
but it was then that
i've come to the conclusion;
selfishness is because
of sometimes beautiful
and reasons worth being selfish over,
sometimes not.
i know this because i decided
to be selfish myself
and not to tell you
to act on your feelings
for i was scared
and i allowed myself to be selfish
on account of that fear,
keeping my love for you to myself.

"i've got strong faith
strong enough to believe
that daydreaming
isn't as wonderful or horrible
as it's made out to be
but i've got a near to naive mind
naive enough to not
be capable of daydreaming,"
he said.
to which i replied, "that's some kind of.. sad."

i've been thinking about
now
too much that i've forgotten
before's and next times also known as after's
still exist

"c'mon! i dare you," i repeat more tauntingly than the last
and pull the trigger, he did.
the gasp i let out echoed.
he couldn't have intended on killing me, right?
that was just to make me suffer a little..
he knew how many bullets there were, right?
"right. there. i just made you suffer a little."
no biggie

after bowing, clapping is heard
i stop trying to distinguish
the ones out of bitterness and pride

i take it all in
and smile at those who made
all this possible

embrace the awkward moments
they're the ones that always
always teach you a lesson

he didn't catch you when you fell, yes. but didn't he kiss your scraped knee?

he was the anchor
she was the sand
and i was the sea.

"don't fall for the boy who tells you you remind him of someone."

i couldn't help myself,
no,
not when the someone
he was referring to
was his mother

flipping the pages of the last book you made me read makes me feel like i've been suffering dyslexia for some time now
so hauntingly familiar
not in any way foreign to me
a photo falls so delicately onto my stained rug
the photo i used as a bookmark
the photo of us i've kept hidden
and forgotten
the photo of you handing a couple dollars
to somebody not in the camera's view
the photo with me beside you
gratefully smiling
as i munch on a waffle
the waffle i spit out right after
the photo that reminds me of the horrid taste of that waffle
it's taste almost as bad as what i feel for you

"you know this is insane," i gasp
carefully dangling my feet
as he kicks back and forth
with force that scares me
for our bodies that will soon
be broken on the ground
if he keeps it up
"i know, and i dare you to tell me that isn't the reason you came."

"don't expect to not get disappointed,"
they said.

i didn't expect you to hurt me
no, not
the same way you know i already have been before

that's what blinded me
but had my eardrums alert
adverting its attention
to my slowly cracking heart

it wasn't that you hurt me
that hurt the most
it was how you did
while knowing,
how you were doing it,
all while promising
"i wouldn't ever"
turns out you would
turns out you are
like them
like all the others
and
dare i say it,
like him.

You'll know you're
One of the many
Messed up people
When you start to think
This way:

If I die a crucial death, will those who love me imagine themselves to be in my place as I'm dying?

You'll know
You're as messed up
As they get
When you start to
Think like I do

"what's this hug for?"
"because you're the kind of person who handles heartache better than illness and i don't know about you but that kinda says a heck of a lot about your character, i hate it. i hate that you've grown accustomed to hurt, it's never not foreign to you anymore."

i like touching the bumps on their arms as i sniff and finally allow my face to drop
moments like that are drenched with such genuine pain and sincerity and silent understanding with still nodding of heads
how horridly beautiful, those moments are

I constantly find myself trying to tell people I'm sad and it's as if they're all trying their best to not listen

“When you knock but the door never opens, you eventually stop." (Not the exact words) — Miss Peregrine's Home For Peculiar Children

no, i'm alone.
no, i'm not dancing around because of that
i am however, trying to distract myself,
trying to rid me of sadness,
trying to drown out my parents' fight.

Sinking into my bed
Used to feel so comforting
But now,
Without you to
Leave the sheets all wrinkled
By your incessant
Turning and twisting
To get yourself comfortable enough,
It's now left to be just a bed
A bed I sleep in
A bed where I lay
Every night, dreaming of you
And wondering
If all the twisting and turning
You did should have warned me
You were never at peace
In my presence, I must've noticed
But I let myself be blinded
By how you'd pull me to you
When you thought
I was long gone asleep
Or perhaps you knew
Perhaps you knew all along
I've been keeping myself up
And trying to engrave in my brain
The way you'd twist and turn
In hopes of remembering
You precisely once you left
Because I always knew you
Eventually would
Leave me

she's outspoken
yet she shies away
she's blunt
yet she's some kind of fake
i wonder how vague this girl can get
i just don't understand her

you've left me uninspired now
but i don't hate you
not really
instead i hate you for the wrongest reason
i hate you because i keep looking for you
even bits of your beautiful monstrous self
in these wide corridors i walk in everyday,
through the noise in the canteen,
everywhere i go and
especially in all the people i meet

is it a bad thing
to think about not existing?

you're all better off without me
i decided
but you quickly replied with
that's all just in your head

if that's true then why why why
do you leave me to dry
my own tears as you sit there
and act like you give a care

why why why do you
let me feel so blue
stop smiling at everyone else
and notice you're so dense

so so dense to my pain

my tears don't threaten to spill
they run down freely
fiercely
without my permission
i never really did learn how to choke down a sob
i was never taught to do so

now we're left missing
the you you were before you got hurt
more so, i'm sure,
than you miss your old self
but then again,
there's no such thing
as a new and old self
there's just you
you, that's not exactly yourself
could be, not anymore,
not at all
or not so much
you
there's just the you before
you had to deal with his *******
the you before
you looked at it
as if it was a necessity
to fake smiles
when really,
it's the ugliest existing thing
in this world
there's just the you who held too tight
with both hands onto him
or not at all
so you could cover your eyes instead
there's just the you
before he left you to crumble
and the you now.